973.7L63   Lincoln  the  Comforter: 
B3W58L      Together  With  a  Story  of 
Cabinet      Lincoln's  First  Pet,  and 
a  Narrative  by  Captain 
Gilbert  J.  Greene 


LINCOLN  ROOM 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


MEMORIAL 

the  Class  of  1901 

founded  by 

HARLAN  HOYT  HORNER 

and 
HENRIETTA  CALHOUN  HORNER 


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t^i^^tA^J^t^ 


LINCOLN 

tke 

COMFORTER 


Together  with   a   Story  of 

Lincoln  s  First  Pet,  and  a  Narrative 

by  Captain  Gilbert  J.  Greene. 


COMPILED  BY  CHAS.  T.   WHITE. 


PRIVATELY    PRINTED 

HANCOCK,  N.  Y. 

HERALD  PRESS 

1916. 


Edition  Limited  to  200  Copies. 
This  copy  is  No..  .  .  ,   H* 
Copyright  1916,  by  Chaa.  T.  White. 


Believing  that  the  two  Lincoln  stories 
and  the  personal  narrative  by  the  late 
Captain  Gilbert  J.  Greene  included  in 
this  brief  volume  are  worthy  of  a  perma- 
nent place  in  Lincolniana,  the  compiler 
has  verified  them  in  every  important 
detail. 

The  story  of  Lincoln  as  comforter  of 
a  dying  Christian  woman  was  obtained 
from  Captain  Greene  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
F.  C.  Iglehart  of  the  Methodist  Church, 
at  present  a  staff  writer  of  "The  Chris- 
tian Herald."  The  story  appeared  in 
"The  Christian  Herald,"  whose  publishers 
sanction  the  use  of  it  here. 

The  narrative  by  Captain  Greene  first 
appeared  in  "The  Atlanta  Constitution," 


in  1889.  Mr.  Clark  Howell,  publisher, 
kindly  permits  publication  here. 

The  compiler's  thanks  are  due  to  Mrs. 
Emily  Clark  Greene,  of  Highland  Mills, 
N.  Y.,  widow  of  Captain  Greene,  for  as- 
sistance in  gathering  and  verifying  data, 
and  for  the  use  of  the  portrait  of  Captain 
Greene. 

Mr.  Herbert  W.  Wagner,  publisher  of 
"The  Hancock  Herald,"  an  old  friend, 
graciously  "loaned"  his  printing  plant, 
and  the  compiler  had  the  pleasure  of  set- 
ting the  type  for  this  pamphlet  in  the 
office  where  thirty-five  years  ago  he  com- 
pleted his  printing  trade  apprenticeship. 

In  the  judgment  of  the  compiler  few 
stories  about  Lincoln  more  fully  grip  the 
"imagination  of  the  heart"  than  the  ones 
given  here.  C.  T.  W. 


Uttmiitt  t     (Enrnforter, 


Captain  Gilbert  J.  Greene,  the  original 
narrator  of  the  story  which  follows,  was  a 
personal  friend  of  Abraham  Lincoln  from 
the  winter  of  1850-51  to  the  close  of  the 
President's  career.  As  related  in  another 
part  of  this  volume,  circumstances  of  a 
peculiar  character  combined  to  establish 
very  sympathetic  relations  between  Lin- 
coln and  young  Greene. 

Briefly,  these  incidents  were  that 
Greene  through  fear  of  personal  violence, 
because  in  a  young  peoples'  debating  so- 
ciety he  took  strong  grounds  against  Sla- 
very as  an  institution,  hurriedly  left  Jack- 
son, Tenn.  Leaving  Cairo,  111.,  in  midwin- 
ter, he  walked  nearly  the  entire  distance 


1O 

of  700-odd  miles  across  Illinois  to  his 
home  at  the  northern  border  of  the  State. 
Jacob  Strause,  a  farmer-client  of  Lin- 
coln's, living  at  Jacksonville,  35  miles 
from  Springfield,  entertained  Greene  over 
night,  exacting  as  compensation  that  he 
agree  to  deliver  to  Lincoln  the  following 
day  a  package  of  legal  papers.  After  the 
delivery  of  the  papers  Lincoln  got  from 
young  Greene  the  story  of  his  career — his 
early  struggle  when  his  mother  was  left  a 
widow  with  a  large  family;  his  printing- 
office  apprenticeship  in  Goshen,  N.  Y.; 
his  work  as  a  journeyman  printer  on 
"The  New  York  Tribune;"  his  brief  ser- 
vice on  a  Mississippi  River  steamer;  his 
tutoring  of  a  planter's  children  at  Jack- 
son, culminating  with  threatened  violence 
that  caused  Greene  to  flee  the  neighbor- 
hood, scantily  clad  and  meagerly  supplied 
with  money. 

As  Lincoln  drew  the  story  from  the 
boy  his   heart   glowed   with   sympathy. 


11 

Like  the  Good  Samaritan,  he  comforted 
him;  he  sent  him  to  an  inn  and  told  the 
landlord  to  take  good  care  of  him,  and 
charge  the  bill  to  him — Lincoln. 

From  boyhood  Abraham  Lincoln  was 
a  comfort  to  people.  They  loved  to  have 
him  around.  They  gathered  where  he 
tarried.  Ofttimes  without  appreciating 
what  it  was,  people  sought  the  sunshine 
of  his  soul,  and  were  better  from  even  a 
brief  contact  with  him.  Captain  Greene, 
then  a  boy  of  18,  seemed  to  have  his  re- 
gard as  few  men,  young  or  old,  had  it. 

In  this  little  book  emphasis  is  laid  on 
the  comforting  quality  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln's character,  because,  in  the  judgment 
of  the  writer,  this  particular  characteristic 
of  Lincoln  is  brought  out  with  beautiful 
distinctness  in  the  incident  witnessed  by 
Gilbert  Greene,  the  young  Springfield 
printer,  and  told  many  times  by  him. 
*  *  *  * 

"Greene,"  said  Lincoln  to  him  one 


12 

day  on  the  streets  of  Springfield,  "I've 
got  to  ride  out  into  the  country  to-mor- 
row to  draw  a  will  for  a  woman  who  is 
believed  to  be  on  her  deathbed.  I  may 
want  you  for  a  witness.  If  you  haven't 
anything  else  to  do  I'd  like  to  have  you 
go  along." 

The  invitation  was  promptly  accepted. 

On  the  way  to  the  farmhouse  the  law- 
yer and  the  printer  chatted  delightfully, 
cementing  a  friendship  that  was  fast 
ripening  into  real  affection.  Arriving  at 
the  house,  the  woman  was  found  to  be 
near  her  end. 

With  great  gentleness  Lincoln  drew  up 
the  document  disposing  of  the  property 
as  the  woman  desired.  Neighbors  and 
relatives  were  present,  making  it  unneces- 
sary to  call  on  Greene  to  witness  the 
instrument.  After  the  signing  and  wit- 
nessing of  the  will  the  woman  turned  to 
Lincoln  and  said,  with  a  smile : 

"Now  I  have  my  affairs  for  this  world 
arranged  satisfactorily.  I  am  thankful 


13 

to  say  that  long  before  this  I  have  made 
preparation  for  the  other  life  I  am  so  soon 
to  enter.  Many  years  ago  I  sought  and 
found  Christ  as  my  Saviour.  He  has  been 
my  stay  and  comfort  through  the  years, 
and  is  now  near  to  carry  me  over  the 
river  of  death.  I  do  not  fear  death,  Mr. 
Lincoln.  I  am  really  glad  that  my  time 
has  come,  for  loved  ones  have  gone  before 
me  and  I  rejoice  in  the  hope  of  meeting 
them  so  soon." 

Instinctively  the  friends  drew  nearer 
the  bedside.  As  the  dying  woman  had 
addressed  her  words  more  directly  to  Lin- 
coln than  to  the  others,  Lincoln,  evincing 
sympathy  in  every  look  and  gesture,  bent 
toward  her  and  said: 

"Your  faith  in  Christ  is  wise  and 
strong;  your  hope  of  a  future  life  is  bless- 
ed. You  are  to  be  congratulated  on 
passing  through  life  so  usefully,  and  into 
the  life  beyond  so  hopefully." 

"Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  she,  "won't  you 


14 

read  a  few  verses  out  of  the  Bible  for 
me?" 

A  member  of  the  family  offered  him 
the  family  Bible.  Instead  of  taking  it,  he 
began  reciting  from  memory  the  twenty- 
third  Psalm,  laying  emphasis  upon 
"Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for 
Thou  art  with  me;  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staff 
they  comfort  me."  Still  without  referr- 
ing to  the  Bible,  Lincoln  began  with  the 
first  part  of  the  fourteenth  chapter  of 
John — 

"Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled;  ye 
believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me. 

"In  my  Father's  house  are  many  man- 
sions; if  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told 
you.  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you. 

"And  if  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for 
you,  I  will  come  again,  and  receive  you 
unto  Myself;  that  where  I  am,  there  ye 
may  be  also." 

After  he  had  given  these  and  other 
quotations  from  the  Scriptures,  he  recited 


15 

various  familiar  comforting  hymns,  clos- 
ing with  "Rock  of  Ages,"  cleft  for  me." 
Then,  with  a  tenderness  and  pathos  that 
enthralled  everyone  in  the  room,  he  spoke 
the  last  stanza — 

"While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
When  mine  eyes  shall  close  in  death, 
When  I  rise  to  worlds  unknown, 
See  Thee  on  Thy  judgment  throne, 
Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee." 

While  Lincoln  was  reciting  this  stanza 
a  look  of  peace  and  resignation  lit  up  the 
countenance  of  the  dying  woman.  In  a 
few  minutes  more,  while  the  lawyer  and 
printer  were  there,  she  passed  away. 

The  journey  back  to  Springfield  was 
begun  in  silence.  It  was  the  younger  man 
who  finally  said: 

"Mr.  Lincoln,  ever  since  what  has  just 
happened  back  there  in  that  farmhouse,  I 
have  been  thinking  that  it  is  very  extra- 
ordinary that  you  should  so  perfectly 
have  acted  as  pastor  as  well  as  attorney." 


16 

When  the  answer  to  this  suggestion 
finally  was  given, — and  it  was  not  given 
at  once — Lincoln  said: 

"God,  and  Eternity,  and  Heaven  were 
very  near  to  me  to-day." 


17 


Abraham  Lincoln  asked  Gilbert  J. 
Greene  to  take  a  walk  with  him  into  the 
country.  It  was  in  the  late  "fifties," 
while  Greene  was  a  journeyman  printer 
in  Springfield,  and  when  the  fame  of  Lin- 
coln throughout  the  State  was  steadily 
rising.  Greene  was  only  too  eager  to  ac- 
cept the  invitation.  He  already  had 
recognized  the  greatness  of  the  character 
of  Lincoln.  A  walk  and  talk  with  Lincoln 
meant  a  widening  of  mental  horizon.  It 
was  a  moonlight  night.  Everything  was 
quiet  along  the  country  road.  Suddenly 
the  strollers  came  up  to  six  little  pigs  with 
their  noses  close  together. 

"Those  little  pigs  are  lost,"  said  Lin- 


18 

coin,  after  briefly  surveying  them,  "let's 
help  them  to  find  their  mother." 

With  little-pig  grunts  and  snorts,  the 
six  were  soon  scampering  down  the  road. 
At  length  they  found  a  hole  in  the  fence 
and  their  mother  in  the  field,  a  rod  away. 
Lincoln  smiled  with  satisfaction  as  he  saw 
the  pig  family  reunited,  and  remarked: 

"I  never  see  a  pig  that  I  do  not  think 
of  my  first  pet.  When  a  boy,  six  years 
old,  while  we  lived  near  Hodgenville,  Ky., 
I  went  over  to  a  neighboring  farm.  A  lit- 
ter of  striped  piggies  had  just  been  born, 
and  I  was  so  taken  with  them  that  they 
could  not  get  me  away  from  them.  The 
owner  filled  me  with  supreme  joy  by  say- 
ing: 'You  may  have  one  of  those  pigs  if 
you  can  get  him  home.'  I  instantly  ac- 
cepted the  offer.  I  had  on  a  tow  shirt 
—one  which  my  mother  had  woven— 
reaching  below  my  knees,  and  fastened  at 
the  neck  by  a  wooden  button  my  father 
had  made.  Using  the  front  of  it  as  an 
apron,  or  sack,  I  rolled  my  pig  up  in  it 


19 

and  carried  him  home.  I  got  an  old  bee- 
gum, — a  hollow  log — put  cornhusks  and 
leaves  into  it  for  a  bed,  and  tucked  him 
away  for  the  night.  He  squealed  for  his 
mother  nearly  all  night.  In  the  morning 
I  carried  him  meal  and  bran,  and  bread 
and  milk — everything  I  could  think  of — 
but  he  would  not  touch  any  of  them. 
About  all  he  could  do  was  to  squeal.  At 
length  my  mother  said  to  me: 

"  'Abe,  take  that  pig  back  home;  it 
will  die  if  you  keep  it  here.' 

"What  my  mother  said  was  always 
the  truth  and  the  law  to  me,  and,  though 
it  almost  broke  my  heart,  I  took  the  pig 
back.  His  mother  was  so  glad  to  see 
him,  and  he  to  see  her  !  After  she  had 
given  him  his  dinner,  he  looked  so  pretty 
I  could  not  stand  it,  and  I  begged  the 
man  to  let  me  take  him  back.  I  put  him 
in  my  tow  shirt,  as  I  had  before,  and  took 
him  to  our  house.  Mother  protested,  and 
I  cried;  she  broke  down  and  relented,  and 
said  I  might  try  him  one  day  more.  He 


20 

would  not  eat  a  thing  I  brought  him,  and 
mother  sent  me  back  with  him  again.  I 
carried  him  back  and  forth  to  his  meals 
for  two  weeks,  until  we  taught  him  to 
eat,  and  he  was  mine  for  good. 

"That  pig,"  continued  Lincoln,  his 
eyes  brightening  with  the  recollection, 
"was  my  companion.  I  played  with  him, 
and  taught  him  tricks.  We  used  to  play 
hide-and-seek.  I  can  see  his  little  face 
now,  peeking  around  the  corner  of  the 
house,  to  see  whether  I  was  coming  after 
him  ! 

"After  awhile  he  got  too  heavy  for  me 
to  carry  around,  and  then  he  followed  me 
everywhere — to  the  barn,  to  the  plowed 
ground,  and  to  the  woods.  Many  a  day 
I  spent  in  the  woods,  brushing  the  leaves 
away,  picking  out  the  most  promising 
spots,  helping  him  to  find  acorns  and 
nuts.  Sometimes  he  would  have  a  lazy 
spell.  Then  he  would  rub  against  my 
legs,  and  stop  in  front  of  me,  and  lie  down 
in  a  sort  of  wheedling  way,  and  say, 


21 

in  the  language  which  I  understood,  'Abe, 
why  don't  you  carry  me,  the  same  as  you 
used  to  do  ¥ 

"When  he  grew  larger,"  continued 
Lincoln,  with  a  hearty  laugh,  "I  turned 
the  tables  on  him,  and  made  him  carry 
me  ;  and  he  did  it  just  as  happily  and 
cheerfully  as  I  ever  performed  the  same 
service  for  him.  Father  fed  him  corn — 
piles  of  it — and  how  he  did  eat!  He  grew 
large — too  large  for  his  own  good  and 
mine.  There  was  talk  around  the  house 
of  the  hog  being  about  fat  enough  to  kill. 
At  the  table  one  day  I  heard  father  say 
he  was  going  to  kill  the  hog  the  next  day. 
My  heart  was  as  heavy  as  lead. 

"The  next  morning  was  the  beginning 
of  a  tragedy  to  me.  There  were  ominous 
signs  everywhere.  There  was  a  heavy 
pole  resting  on  crotched  posts  near  the 
barn.  Father  had  a  barrel  of  water  ready, 
and  was  heating  the  stones  that  were  to 
be  thrown  into  it  to  make  hot  water  for 
the  scalding.  I  was  suddenly  seized  with 


22 

a  determination  to  save  my  playmate.  I 
slipped  out  and  took  him  with  me  into 
the  woods.  When  father  found  what  had 
happened  he  yelled  as  loud  as  he  could: 

"  'You,  Abe,  fetch  back  that  hog!  You, 
Abe,  fetch  back  that  hog  !f 

"The  louder  father  called,  the  further 
and  faster  we  went,  till  we  were  out  of 
hearing  of  the  voice.  We  stayed  in  the 
woods  till  night.  On  returning  I  was  se- 
verely scolded.  Father  and  mother  ex- 
plained to  me  that  we  could  not  keep  the 
hog  through  the  winter  for  me  to  play 
with — that  hogs  were  meant  to  be  killed 
for  food.  I  was  not  convinced.  After  a 
restless  night  I  rose  early  and  slipped  out 
of  the  house  quietly,  to  get  my  pig  and 
take  him  away  for  another  day's  hiding. 
But  my  father  had  forestalled  me  by  ris- 
ing still  earlier,  and  he  had  fastened  my 
pet  in  the  pen. 

"I  knew  then,"  continued  Lincoln,  as 
the  two  men  halted  momentarily,  "there 
was  no  hope  for  my  pig.  I  did  not  eat 


23 

any  breakfast,  but  started  for  the  woods. 
I  had  not  got  far  into  the  woods  before  I 
heard  the  pig  squeal,  and  I  ran  faster  than 
ever  to  get  away  from  the  sound. 

"Being  quite  hungry  at  midday,  I  start- 
ed for  home.  Reaching  the  edge  of  the 
clearing,  I  saw  the  hog,  dressed,  hanging 
from  the  pole  near  the  barn.  I  began  to 
blubber.  I  just  couldn't  reconcile  myself 
to  my  loss.  I  could  not  stand  it,  and 
went  far  back  into  the  woods  again,  where 
I  found  some  nuts  that  satisfied  my  hun- 
ger till  night,  when  I  returned  home. 

"They  could  not  get  me  to  take  any 
of  the  meat;  neither  tenderloin,  nor  sau- 
sage, nor  souse;  and  even  months  after, 
when  the  cured  ham  came  on  the  table,  it 
made  me  sad  and  sick  to  look  at  it. 

"The  next  morning,"  continued  Lin- 
coln, "I  went  into  the  yard  and  saw  some 
of  the  reminders  of  the  butchering.  Tak- 
ing a  big  chip,  I  scraped  the  scattered 
blood  and  hair  into  a  pile  and  burned  it 
up.  Then  I  found  some  soft  dirt  which  I 


24 

carried  in  the  fold  of  my  tow  shirt,  and 
strewed  it  over  the  ground,  to  cover  up 
every  trace  of  what  was  to  me  an  awful 
tragedy.  The  new  dirt  did  not  do  its 
work  very  well,"  said  the  speaker,  smiling 
somewhat  sadly,  "for  to  this  day,  when- 
ever I  see  a  pig  like  the  little  fellows  we 
just  met  in  the  road — it  all  comes  back  to 
me — my  pet  pig,  our  rambles  in  the  woods, 
the  scenes  of  my  boyhood,  the  old  home 
and  the  dear  ones  there." 

In  commenting  on  this  walk  and  talk 
with  Lincoln,  Captain  Greene  said : 

"It  gave  me  a  clearer  insight  into  the 
great  heart  of  Lincoln  than  years  of  close 
association  could  have  done.  He  had  a 
wonderful  kindness  of  heart.  He  could 
not  help  being  tender  any  more  than  the 
song  birds  about  his  cabin  could  keep  from 
singing.  It  was  easy,  even  then,  for  me 
to  see  how  the  boy,  so  tender  to  his  first 
pet,  might  grow  to  be  perhaps  the  very 
greatest  and  noblest  American  gentle- 


man." 


CAPTAIN  GILBERT  J.  GRKKXK 


Abraham  Stnrnln  as  If 
int 


BY  GILBERT   J.  GREENE.* 


To  intimately  know  a  great  man  is  a 
privilege,  because  great  men  are  rare,  and 
their  intimates  are  not  often  numerous, 
and  they  seldom  have  time  or  inclination 
to  give  thought  or  attention  to  those 
whose  sphere  of  life  is  far  removed  from 
their  own.  As  it  was  my  privilege  to  know 

*  Gilbert  J.  Greene  was  born  in  Ramapo,  N.Y.,  April  27, 1833.  He 
died  at  Highland  Mills,  N  Y.,  December  12,  1906.  When  five  years 
old  his  father  died,  leaving  his  mother  with  thirteen  children.  In 
early  boyhood  he  entered  a  printing  office  at  Goshen,  N.  Y.  From 
there  he  went  to  New  York,  and  became  a  compositor  on  the  Tri- 
bune. Drifting  west,  he  became  a  clerk  on  a  Mississippi  River  boat. 
At  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  he  volunteered  on  the  first  call,  raised 
a  company  at  Tarrytown,  N.  Y.,  and  went 'out  as  First  Lieutenant. 
He  was  attached  to  the  49th  N.  Y.  Regiment.  Lincoln  made  him 
Marshal  of  Winchester,  and  later  a  dispatch  carrier  for  Grant  and 
others.  After  the  war  he  engaged  in  business  in  the  South.  His 
last  years  were  spent  in  Orange  County,  N.  Y.  He  wag  a  good  writer 
and  speaker,  and  highly  esteemed. 


36 

Abraham  Lincoln  quite  well  some  years 
before  his  countrymen  recognized  his  abil- 
ity, or  demanded  his  services,  it  may  be 
taken  as  sufficient  warrant  for  relating 
the  circumstance  that  made  us  acquaint- 
ed. Although  I  have  known  Mr.  Lincoln 
to  laugh,  and  to  raise  a  laugh,  in  relating 
it,  yet  even  now,  after  a  lapse  of  nearly 
half  a  century,  it  appears  as  a  very  serious 
matter  to  me.  It  is  needless,  therefore, 
to  wait,  hoping  that  it  might  assume  a 
more  pleasant  aspect;  but  if  the  world  can 
take  a  cheerful  view  of  it,  I  am  sure,  con- 
sidering all  that  has  followed,  I  ought  not 
to  complain. 

In  the  summer  and  fall  of  1850  I  was 
second  clerk  on  a  Mississippi  steamboat 
plying  between  St.  Louis  and  New  Or- 
leans. On  the  down  trip  in  October  were 
a  gentleman  and  his  family  who  had  been 
spending  the  summer  at  the  North.  They 
lived  near  Jackson,  Tenn.,  where  they  had 
a  large  plantation.  They  were  old  friends 
of  the  captain  of  the  boat.  They  desired 


27 

to  engage  a  teacher  for  their  children,  to 
make  one  of  their  family  until  they  went 
north  the  following  year. 

This  looked  like  pleasant  employment. 
The  captain  recommended  me  as  a  com- 
petent person,  and  I  accepted  the  situa- 
tion, agreeing  to  meet  a  member  of  the 
family  at  Memphis  on  the  return  trip  of 
the  boat  from  New  Orleans.  This  I  did, 
and  found  everything  quite  as  good  as  I 
had  reason  to  expect. 

I  soon  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
young  people  of  the  neighborhood,  and 
entered  into  the  various  amusements 
common  to  them.  Perhaps  I  added  to 
the  general  fund,  having  seen  more  of  the 
world,  and  mingled  sowewhat  in  society. 

The  inevitable  debating  society  of  that 
period  held  forth  in  a  neighboring  school- 
house.  I  was  quite  as  ready  then  as  now 
to  argue  either  side  of  any  question  that 
needed  defenders,  as  my  bump  of  egotism 
was  well  developed  at  that  early  day.  I 
well  remember  I  was  rather  sought  after 


28 

by  the  advocates  of  questions  that  were 
weak  or  unpopular. 

The  absorbing  slavery  question  was 
not  long  in  being  brought  to  the  front. 
Having  spent  some  years  in  a  Free  Soil 
printing  office,  I  probably  was  more  famil- 
iar with  the  question  than  my  opponents 
suspected,  and  doubtless  brought  argu- 
ments against  the  institution  they  had 
never  heard  and  were  quite  unable  to  an- 
swer. 

The  discussion  of  Slavery  continued  for 
a  number  of  evenings,  and  the  old  school 
house  always  was  full.  Considering  the 
time  and  circumstances,  I  doubtless  was 
very  indiscreet.  I  was  not  employed  for 
the  purpose  of  discussing  the  question. 
Looking  back  over  all  these  long  years  to 
the  occurrence  as  it  now  appears  to  me,  I 
cannot  think  that  the  threats  and  violence 
of  a  whole  community  were  justified  or 
necessary,  or  in  any  sense  an  answer  to 
the  arguments  of  a  beardless  boy. 

Repeated  threats  had  been  made,  to 


20 

which  I  gave  no  heed,  and  violence  at- 
tempted which  I  had  been  able  to  repel. 
Another  meeting  was  appointed  for  a  few 
nights  before  Christmas.  The  warnings 
to  keep  away  made  me  the  more  deter- 
mined to  be  present.  A  riot  ensued,  as 
had  doubtless  been  prearranged,  and  I 
was  obliged  to  fly  for  safety.  The  road 
to  my  residence  was  patrolled  by  armed 
men,  and  I  could  "not  approach  it  to  pro- 
cure aid,  or  even  so  much  as  to  get  an 
overcoat. 

I  had  a  small  sum  of  money.  My  first 
thought  was  to  go  to  Memphis,  hoping  to 
intercept  the  boat  on  which  I  had  been 
employed,  either  on  up  or  down  trip.  The 
weather  was  very  cold  and  bad.  I  got  to 
Memphis  only  to  find  that  the  steamer 
was  laid  up  in  New  Orleans  with  a  broken 
shaft,  and  would  not  make  a  trip  for  sev- 
eral weeks.  The  only  boat  going  up  the 
river  was  an  Ohio  River  boat.  In  my 
anxiety  to  get  away  I  took  passage  on  it 
to  Cairo,  and  arrived  there  to  find  both 


30 

the  Mississippi  and  the  Ohio  frozen  over 
and  all  navigation  suspended. 

My  home  was  in  the  extreme  northern 
end  of  the  State  of  Illinois,  within  five 
miles  of  the  Wisconsin  line — over  700 
miles  from  Cairo  at  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio 
River.  There  was  no  railroad  at  that 
time  in  that  part  of  Illinois,  or  any  that 
ran  in  that  direction.  I  was  determined, 
however,  to  go  home.  The  weather  was 
uncommonly  cold.  I  was  scantily  clad, 
and  had  but  a  few  dollars  in  money.  The 
distance  was  very  great.  After  thinking 
the  matter  over  for  a  day  or  two,  I  set  out 
upon  the  journey,  and  never  faltered  for 
an  hour,  finally  reaching  my  own  pleasant 
home  on  the  banks  of  the  Rock  River. 

It  was  a  terrible  experience.  I  was  a 
mere  boy,  unused  to  much  physical  exer- 
tion. My  money  gave  out  before  half  the 
trip  was  over.  To  many  hardships,  hun- 
ger, too,  was  often  added. 

The  long,  depressing  journey  was  il- 
lumined by  a  single  incident  that  to  my 


31 

mind  amply  compensates  me  for  all  the 
suffering  I  endured.  I  made  upon  this 
journey  the  acquaintance  of  Abraham 
Lincoln  ! 

Just  how  it  occurred  furnishes  the  mo- 
tive for  this  sketch.  Although  nearly  half 
a  century  has  passed  away,  I  feel  in  relat- 
ing it  somewhat  the  ardor  of  the  old 
soldier,  who  in  congenial  company  loves 
to  fight  his  battles  over  again. 

As  I  approached  the  middle  of  the 
State,  after  walking  an  entire  day  through 
cornfields,  I  applied  at  nightfall  at  a  large 
farmhouse  for  shelter.  I  soon  learned 
that  it  was  the  home  of  Jacob  Strause,  at 
that  time  the  largest  farmer  in  the  West, 
owning  more  than  40,000  acres  of  land, 
and  producing  nothing  but  corn  and  beef. 
Finding  that  my  route  carried  me  to 
Springfield,  the  capital  of  the  State,  just 
35  miles  due  north,  Strause  told  me  he 
would  keep  me  over  night  if  I  would  carry 
some  papers  to  a  lawyer  there  next  day. 

After  supper,  sitting  around  a  great 


32 

fire  composed  entirely  of  corncobs,  he 
said  he  had  some  papers  to  send  to  "Abe" 
Lincoln,  who  attended  to  all  his  legal 
business. 

"Don't  know  him?  Well,  anybody  in 
Springfield  can  tell  you  where  his  office  is 
— up  by  the  court  house.  He's  just  the 
smartest  lawyer  there  is  in  this  State,  and 
he  would  be  Governor  yet  if  it  wasn't  for 
his  infernal  politics,"  said  Strause. 

The  old  fellow  was  loud  in  his  praise 
of  "Abe"  Lincoln,  but  was  clearly  of  the 
opinion  that  his  "infernal  politics"  would 
keep  him  from  ever  amounting  to  any- 
thing. He  related  a  number  of  anecdotes 
to  show  how  much  smarter  was  Lincoln 
than  some  other  lawyers  whom  he  had 
employed  to  do  his  legal  business. 

I  started  the  next  morning  at  sunrise. 
The  distance  to  Springfield  was  35  miles, 
the  road  exactly  straight,  and  the  country 
so  level  I  could  see  the  sun  reflected  from 
the  State  House  dome.  It  was  very  cold, 
but  clear.  The  snow  was  about  four 


33 

inches  deep,  as  dry  as  powder,  and  it 
slipped  under  the  feet  like  sand.  Since 
then  I  have  walked  some  long  distances; 
I  saw  some  heavy  marching  during  the 
war,  but  no  single  day's  journey  ever  ex- 
ceeded the  wearisome  monotony  of  this 
long,  level  road.  I  arrived  in  the  city 
before  nightfall.  The  first  man  I  asked 
(he  chanced  to  be  cutting  wood  by  the 
roadside) ,  said  in  answer  to  my  inquiry : 

"You  will  find  'Abe'  Lincoln's  office 
on  the  west  side  of  Court  House  Square, 
in  the  only  building  that  ain't  got  any 
paint  on  it." 

And  so  I  -did.  The  entrance  was  in  a 
hallway. 

UA.  LINCOLN,  ATTORNEY," 

was  on  a  plain  strip  of  black  tin  on  a 
door  to  the  left.  I  knocked,  and  a  loud, 
cheerful  voice  instantly  responded,  "Come 
in  !"  I  timidly  opened  the  door  and  en- 
tering I  observed  a  man  sitting  in  an  old- 
fashioned  splint-bottomed  chair  before  a 
blazing  wood  fire,  his  feet  against  the 


34 

mantel  higher  than  his  head,  and  reading 
a  copy  of  "The  Louisville  Journal."  He 
never  looked  up,  but  as  I  advanced 
towards  the  fire,  which  at  the  moment 
attracted  me  more  than  the  man,  he  said : 

"Well?" 

"I  have  some  papers  here  which  I 
brought  from  Jacob  Strause,  near  Jack- 
sonville," was  my  reply. 

Down  came  the  feet  and  up  went  the 
head,  and  as  he  took  the  bundle  he  said : 

"Didn't  think  the  old  codger  would 
send  a  horse  out  such  a  night  as  this." 

When  I  told  him  I  had  walked  the 
entire  distance  his  interest  in  me  became 
so  great  that  he  never  stopped  questioning 
me  until  I  had  told  him  my  whole  story. 

As  he  rose  from  his  chair  he  seemed 
to  undouble  like  a  pocket  rule,  his  legs 
and  arms  disproportionately  long,  his  hair 
disheveled,  his  clothing  seedy,  and  his 
general  appearance  quite  unprepossessing. 
But  he  had  not  talked  to  me  ten  minutes 
in  his  quiet,  sympathetic  way  before  I 


35 

thought  him  about  the  handsomest  man 
I  had  ever  seen.  I  had  just  finished  the 
hardest  day's  labor  of  my  life.  I  entered 
his  office  half -frozen  and  half-starved.  He 
did  not  even  ask  me  to  sit  down,  nor  did 
he  sit  down  himself,  yet  I  grew  warm  and 
cheerful  in  his  presence,  forgetting  my 
great  hunger  and  fatigue.  The  tears  I 
unconsciously  shed  were  but  an  honest 
tribute  to  his  kindness  and  sympathy. 

He  manifested  great  interest  in  my 
adventure,  and  discussed  the  slavery  ques- 
tion from  standpoints  that  were  quite  new 
to  me.  He  condemned  the  system  on 
moral,  political  and  financial  grounds,  but 
it  was  hard  for  me  to  tell  for  whom  he 
had  the  greater  sympathy,  the  slave  or 
his  master. 

"Slavery,"  Lincoln  said,  "exists  only 
by  the  tolerance  of  Christian  people,  but 
its  advocates  are  determined  that  Chris- 
tianity shall  not  only  tolerate  but  ap- 
prove it." 

Continuing,  he  said  it  was  a  conflict 


36 

that  could  not  last  forever,  and  it  could 
have  but  one  ending.  It  must  cease  to 
exist.  If  during  the  last  twenty  years  its 
advocates  had  held  an  annual  convention 
to  determine  upon  something  they  would 
do  in  the  following  year  to  annoy  or  in- 
cense their  opponents,  they  would  have 
proposed  about  what  they  had  done,  and 
and  if  it  were  continued,  as  it  had  been  in 
the  past,  there  were  plenty  of  people  then 
living  who  would  see  the  end  of  human 
slavery.  He  said  he  was  quite  sure  it 
would  not  outlive  the  century.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  gradual  emancipation,  and 
governmental  compensation,  would  bring 
it  to  an  end. 

Finding  that  I  had  no  money,  he  took 
$5  from  his  pocket,  saying: 

"Take  this.  I  will  charge  it  up  to 
that  old  codger,  as  he  had  to  send  the 
papers  to-day,  and  it  is  worth  ten  dol- 
lars to  bring  them  in  such  weather." 

Taking  up  the  newspaper  he  had  laid 


37 

down,  he  wrote  on  the  white  margin  in  a 
line  eighteen  inches  long: 

"Mr.  Wilson:  Take  care  of  this  boy 
until  to-morrow,  or  longer  if  the  weather 
is  bad,  and  send  the  bill  to  me. 

A.  LINCOLN. 

Tearing  this  off  and  handing  it  to  me, 
he  pointed  out  of  the  window  to  a  hotel 
across  the  square,  and  told  me  to  go  there 
and  remain  until  I  was  able  to  resume  my 
journey;  that  he  was  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  do  me  a  favor,  and  would  be 
more  than  glad  if  in  the  future  he  should 
know  that  I  was  prosperous  and  happy. 

As  I  stepped  out  into  the  snow  and 
turned  my  back  on  that  friendly  face  I 
little  thought  I  had  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  one  great  figure  that  would 
illumine  the  pages  of  American  history  in 
the  19th  century. 

I  thought  he  was  the  greatest  man  I 
had  ever  seen.  His  was  the  first  friendly 
greeting  I  had  received,  after  weeks  of 
exceptional  toil  and  privation.  I  trust  I 


38 

would  have  appreciated  such  kindness 
at  its  true  value  coming  from  anyone,  but 
there  was  something  about  this  man  so 
impressive  that  I  passed  out  of  his  sight 
with  the  conviction  that  I  had  met  a  great 
man. 

Three  weeks  afterward  I  met,  at  Rock- 
ford,  Mr.  Elihu  Washburne,  the  Con- 
gressman from  the  northern  district  of 
Illinois,  and  who  afterward  became  the 
distinguished  friend  of  both  Lincoln  and 
Grant.  I  related  to  him  this  occurrence, 
and  ended  it  with  the  observation  that  I 
regarded  Lincoln  as  a  great  man.  Mr. 
Washburne  replied : 

"Well,  yes;  Mr.  Lincoln  is  an  able 
man,  and  he  possesses  in  a  large  degree 
the  elements  of  true  greatness,  but  his 
excessive  modesty  and  diffidence  will  keep 
him  in  the  background,  while  others,  with 
less  fitness  or  ability,  will  push  themselves 
to  the  front." 

I  was  well  cared  for  at  the  hotel,  and 
the  next  day,  the  weather  being  very 


39 

pleasant,  I  set  out  to  finish  my  tedious 
journey.  As  I  was  leaving  the  hotel  a 
man  brought  me  a  note  from  Mr.  Lincoln, 
the  messenger  explaining  that  it  might  be 
of  some  use  to  me  when  I  reached  Peoria, 
a  town  farther  north,  on  the  Illinois  River. 
It  was  addressed  to  a  business  man  in  the 
town,  and  ran  as  follows: 

Mr.  Wallace,  Peoria:  Dear  Sir:  This 
boy  wants  to  reach  the  Rock  River  coun- 
try somewhere  near  Beloit.  If  he  needs 
any  assistance  so  you  can  help  him  in  any 
way,  it  will  be  appreciated,  and  I  will  be 
responsible.  Yours,  A.  LINCOLN. 

I  did  not  meet  the  gentleman  to  whom 
the  note  was  addressed,  as  he  was  not  at 
home,  and  it  was  quite  as  well,  as  I  did 
not  need  any  assistance,  for  twenty  years 
afterward  I  sold  the  dingy  note  for  $20. 

I  reached  my  home  in  due  time,  hav- 
ing walked  about  800  miles  in  thirty  days. 
It  is  but  proper  to  add,  and  I  take 
pleasure  in  so  doing,  that  I  found  a  letter 
from  the  gentleman  by  whom  I  had  been 


40 

employed  deploring  the  occurrence  which 
forced  my  leaving,  and  assuring  me  of  his 
sympathy,  inclosing  all  and  more  than 
was  really  due  me. 


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